


suaviate.

by Cinnamon_Girl



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types
Genre: Confusion, Could be platonic could be more, Emotional Conflict, Mostly Hate, Multi, Rough fluff, Underage Kissing, Way too many relationships, is that even a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 15:10:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10414950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamon_Girl/pseuds/Cinnamon_Girl
Summary: Headcanon/What-if drabbles : kissing your apprentice is tradition among Sith.





	

 

 

 

“ _So_ , what did we learn today ?”

Sheev spit to the side, wiping the corner of his mouth clean of blood before raising daring eyes towards his master.

“That cheating is always more rewarding than playing fair ?”

Inhumanly slender fingers gripped his chin with enough strength to bruise, bringing his snarling face up to the faintly grinning one of Plagueis. “You have some fight left on your tongue, it seems.”

Before the boy could say anything, cold narrow lips locked his mouth shut, sharp-tipped teeth piercing his skin.

He returned the claim only to make the bitter taste of hemoglobin last as long as he could in his master’s mouth, the pain solidifying his need to take as much as he could out of it.

They parted for air and sour satisfaction, Plagueis threw his apprentice back to the ground in one careless flung of the arm.

 

“Playing fair doesn’t matter, if you’re better at cheating.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The creature was lain dead on the arena floor, Maul breathing heavily next to it.

His hands were trembling, knuckles split bloody with punching and he was pretty sure that, in the process, he had broken several somethings in his small body.

Behind him, the rustle of robes was getting nearer.

Sidious closed on the child, genuflecting to get to his level, and Maul turned. His lower lip was quivering with hard spent adrenalin and lingering fear of what he had accomplished.

The Sith lord kissed it still.  
“You did well, my apprentice.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When Dooku got up from kneeling, he took the closeness of the politician -his _master_ , he had pledged _himself_ after all- for some manifestation of celebration.

Maybe having his richly sleeved arms grasped was a step further than he had expected, but he brushed lightly at the other man’s elbow. Because he didn’t know what to do, because it seemed better than not moving at all.

And when the kiss came his first action was to push the other away, even using the Force doing so.

What he yet again hadn’t seen coming was the fact that said Force wouldn’t warn him of the fast foot which brutally kicked his legs off the ground and made him tumble back down, on both knees this time.

A hand pulled at his silver-white hair with clawing fingers, making him bare clenched teeth as a foreign palm gripped his neck, _tight_. As if wanting to crush the Jedi out of him.

 

“ _Welcome_ , Tyrannus.”

Sidious covered his lips once more. Mercilessly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She _was_ Sith.

There was no denying it. No one could. She had made herself sure of it.

The Jedi themselves were out for what she was, that was proof enough. And if the old man still refused to face the truth, then Asajj was ready to try and kill him just to show how wrong he was.

He didn’t hide himself from the truth. In fact, he embraced it, as reluctantly as possible.

He embraced _her_.

And when their mouths met, as ice-like and fleeting as it was, she found herself leaning into it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Truly, one could only feel bad, looking into that poor boy’s eyes.

He was the very definition of lost, glancing everywhere but at his master, who was still every bit of unsettled at the manners of the Sith. (It was never written in the Temple's archives. But he didn’t have to show it, did he ?)

Instead, he straightened, congratulated Savage on the success of his mission, and dismissed him.

The imposing Zabrak stood up awkwardly, faintly touching his lips with apparent confusion, and Dooku asked himself _for what felt like the thousandth time since his departure from the Order_ if he had made the right decision...

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You’ve done well, apprentice.”

 _‘You too, brother.’_ he wanted to say, but didn’t, because he knew it wasn’t proper.

And if there was one thing he learned the hard way from his early days of training with the Count, it was _etiquette_ , as weird a concept it still sounded to him.

Maul patted his shoulder, absentmindedly but warmly it seemed, and let his hand rest there.

He looked thoughtful, hesitant even, staring at his kin with a sentiment of reluctance that settled uncomfortably in the air between them.

Savage understood. He had learned.  
It seemed his brother needed to, as well.

So he leant down, forward, just a bit, just enough, and that was all it took.

Maul clung to him him before sharing his mastership, something quick and genuine that lingered when he stepped away, an arm still half-locked around Savage’s neck.

They had done some great job. They could do even more, in the future.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was a fascinating experience to read the Force in that instant. 

But it was all the more delightful to _listen_ to it. As Anakin Skywalker remained broken and open on the scarlet floor, head bowed low in painful surrender and sweet, _sweet_ acceptance.

A cacophonous choir harmonizing in horror and eternity like the inevitable collapsing of stars.

The Chosen One had fallen dark with spread arms and all was well and good in that screaming void of a world.

 

( _Their_ world. Now.)

 

So when the Chancellor - _Emperor_ , oh _yes_ \- took his shoulders with shaking hands to devour his lips with his now scarred own, the Force itself filled to bursting with power and madness and galaxies ever-swirling.

He tilted his head back just to better grant access, exposing his throat, his self, his fists losing themselves in clutching the red fabric of Palpatine’s robes. His mentor. His savior. His _master._

 

And thus was sealed the victory of the Sith.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
